Beautiful Night
by Evnissyn
Summary: A collection of DarkKrad oneshots for the 100moods challenge. T rating is only for certain stories, most of it is K.
1. Beautiful Night

A/N: This will end up being a collection of fics I writing for the 100moods challenge on livejournal. All oneshots. They will have little if any correlation with each other.

And it will all be Dark/Krad, though it will not always be very obvious.

Hope you guys like it!

* * *

**Title:** Beautiful Night  
**Fandom:** DNAngel  
**Characters:** Dark and Krad  
**Prompt:** 033: Enamored  
**Word Count:** 595  
**Rating:** G  
**Warnings / Spoilers:** Dark is a little OOC …  
**Summary:** Tonight is the night of truce, the one night in which Dark and Krad do not have to fight, and can simply enjoy the beauty of the night together.

* * *

The wind is gentle tonight. I delight in his touch, rejoice in his soft caress. He is rarely so kind to me, for he usually tears at me and screams at me – and he always, always, always tells his Master where I am. It is this last that always makes me flee from him, makes me curse at him. But tonight – tonight his Master does not seek to destroy me. Tonight – tonight is the night of truce.

I step out of the shadows, suppressing the instinct to duck away from the light of the moon that streamed through the open window. There is no reason to hide from the moon tonight. It will not burn me tonight, for tonight is the night of truce.

I slip out of the open window, flying on my own wings for once, out above the moonlit sea. As I gain altitude, I gaze openly at the night sky, able to enjoy the sight with leisure for the first time in a very, very long time. The moon – he is beautiful tonight, full and round and perfect. Even his scars add to his beauty. And the stars … they shine so brightly and steadily on this cloudless night. There is hardly a flicker at all to mar their beauty.

And the sea! Oh the sea! Its dark surface glitters with the ever-shifting reflections of a thousand thousand stars. And the reflection of the moon himself paints a shimmering silver path across the waves out to sea. A path that calls to me, that will lead me away from here, out of my cage, to freedom …

I tilt my wings and wheel away from the sight of that beckoning water. I would never choose that road. I can't. I am in a cage that will never release me, that will follow wherever I go. And I would not choose to leave, even if I could.

I fly above the small coastal town from which I started. There is beauty here too, but harsher and less gentle. The lights of the town are so many and so bright, I could almost believe the stars have fallen from the sky. But, such a pity, the stars themselves are dimmer here, washed out from all the light shining upward from the town. I can hardly see them at all. And the moon – he is still beautiful, but his glory is diminished. His allure is weakened – one bright light amidst many is hardly as interesting as one bright light alone.

My thoughts are broken as a shining white figure flies up to soar at my side. "Beautiful night, isn't it?" says the Master of wind, moon, and night.

I tilt my head slightly so I can look at him. He … he is the most beautiful of them all, for all of their separate beauties is incorporated in his own. His is the radiant beauty of the moon, bright and full, with any flaw only a contribution to his beauty. His is the steady beauty of the stars, changeless and true, even after all these centuries. His is the vain beauty of the sea, claiming all the beauty of his surroundings as mere ornaments to enhance that which is already beautiful. And his is the unforgiving beauty of the bright lights of civilization, shining so brilliantly that any beauty compared to his seems impossibly dull.

He is the most beautiful of them all, for who can expect to compete against the beauty of a cloudless, moonlit night?

"Yes," I answer. "It really is beautiful."

* * *

A/N: Was it good? Did you people like it?


	2. Are You Awake?

A/N: Okay, the room and its furniture are based on the anime, where the bed is situated above the desk and the window leads to a balcony. And Daisuke is somewhat OOC - he probably wouldn't ask that many questions ...

And ... that's about it.

* * *

**Title:** Are You Awake?  
**Fandom:** DNAngel  
**Characters:** Dark, Daisuke, With, Krad  
**Prompt:** 008 Awake  
**Word Count:** 535  
**Rating:** G  
**Warnings / Spoilers:** Daisuke is a little OOC.  
**Summary: **It's in the middle of the night, and Daisuke keeps pestering Dark with questions. Why won't the annoying twit go to sleep already?

* * *

"Hey, Dark?" Daisuke called into the darkness. His voice echoed slightly around the empty room.

He felt the phantom thief stir inside his mind, but there was no answer.

"Dark?" Daisuke called again. "Are you awake?"

A wave of irritation rolled from Dark's corner. _Now I am,_ the phantom thief snapped grumpily. _Whaddaya want?_

Daisuke was taken aback. What's _he_ so grumpy for? the boy wondered.

_I'm grumpy 'cause you won't go t' sleep an' leave me alone!_

Daisuke gulped. Dark had never been this angry before. "But, Dark," the boy said, "I want to ask you a question."

There was a short silence that was followed by an irritated sigh. _Ask away, then go to sleep._

"Why do you and Krad keep on fighting?" Daisuke asked, ignoring the wave of surprise from Dark's corner. "I mean, it's been, what, four hundred years now? What kind of disagreement is worth this much fighting? And why –"

Dark broke in. _This is stupid._

"No it's not!"

_Yes, it is. It's a school night –_

"What's _that_ got to do with anything?"

Dark raised his voice. _It's a school night, and it's almost twelve, and you're wasting your time asking about KRAD?!_

"I'm _not_ wasting time!" Daisuke practically shouted. "I need to know this stuff but nobody ever tells me anything I need to know!"

With huddled at the far corner of the bed, ears laid flat against the sheets. All the noise from his master was really getting to the poor thing.

And the noise wasn't annoying just the shape-shifter either. The sound of footsteps in the hall was followed by the sound of someone rapping on the door. "Daisuke? Dark?" Emiko's voice floated from the other side. "Stop arguing and get to sleep!" The footsteps receded down the hall.

There was a long moment of total silence.

Daisuke opened his mouth.

_Don't, _Dark warned him. _Just shut up and get to sleep._

Daisuke was about to argue, but something in Dark's voice made him decide against it. "Fine," he muttered. "But I swear, I'm going to keep asking until you tell me."

Dark didn't deign to answer.

– – – – –

About ten minutes later, just as the clock tower in the center of town struck midnight, a gentle tapping came from the closed and locked window. There was a small click and the window was pushed open by a slender white hand. "Dark?" a sibilant, velvet-covered voice whispered. "Are you awake?"

The boy lying in bed turned over. He sat up and looked around, blinking the sleepiness out of his eyes. He stretched and, as he climbed out of his sheets, gently tapped the rabbit-demon awake. With glanced up, then nodded solemnly as he transformed into another boy.

The first boy slid down the ladder to the upper bunk with practiced ease, neglecting to use the actual rungs. He sauntered over to the open window.

A smile slowly spread across his face as the full moon's reflection glittered from two pairs of eyes, one a smooth amber, the other a deep violet.

"Now I am," Dark answered as he stepped out onto the balcony.

With watched and waited until the window slid shut before he went back to sleep.

* * *

A/N: So, was it good? Did you like it? 


	3. Lovers' Quarrel

A/N: Thank you to all those who read and/or reviewed my last two stories!

* * *

**Title:** Lovers' Quarrel  
**Fandom:** DNAngel  
**Characters:** Dark and Krad  
**Prompt:** 068 Nostalgic  
**Word Count:** 2420  
**Rating:** PG-13 / R  
**Warnings / Spoilers:** A little OOC, as with most things I write. And yaoi. I can't write it well, so there's only mention of it, not outright description.  
**Summary:** Reminiscing about the past is all well and good, but some people have very long memories. They don't forget the bad things.

* * *

The moon shone softly through the window of the Hiwatari apartment, casting a rectangle of light on the carpeted floor of the bedroom. It did quite a good job of lighting up a corner of the room, but the rest of the room was shrouded in a darkness that almost seemed to resist the light.

This, however, did not bother the two occupants of the bed in the far corner. It was, after all, the particular power of one of the two, and both had eyes that could see through this darkness as if it was daylight. And they were both so absorbed in each other that something as trivial as a little darkness did not bother them at all.

Dark and Krad lay on their sides, their faces inches apart. Their limbs and bodies were tangled together and the sweat-soaked sheets would have tied them even closer together if the two had not kicked them to the foot of the bed near an hour ago. Fingers were still ensnared in sodden locks of hair, even though the height of their passion and ardor had passed already, leaving the two halves of the mystical Black Wings panting in spent exhaustion.

The church in the center of town suddenly began tolling the bells. Both Dark and Krad froze as they waited for the ringing to end, and, as they counted the number of bells, they prayed.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Silence.

Dark carefully disentangled himself and swung himself out of bed. He did not look at Krad as he reached for his clothes.

Krad raised his head. "Leaving so soon, Dark?" he asked.

Dark paused in his attempt to pull on his trousers. From where Krad lay, he could see Dark's face silhouetted against the streetlight shining through the window. "Emiko wakes up in the next hour," Dark answered softly. There might or might not have been a slight tone of reluctance and apology in his voice. "If she does not find Daisuke in bed, she'll end up watching him sleep for the next month."

Krad sighed as he laid his head on his elbow. "Remember those days when we were our own masters and had our own bodies?" he murmured, eyes glazing over. "When we could stay together all the time…" A mischievous smile of nostalgia crept over his face. "… and stay in bed for as long as we like?"

Dark closed his eyes, as if in pain. "I remember," he whispered, a mere breath of sound.

Krad was lost in his memory, eyes half-closed, almost completely oblivious to Dark's presence now. "We weren't bound to these lowly humans then," he said. "Our spirits were bound to each other …"

Dark took a deep breath. When he let it out, he said, in what might have been an accusing voice if there had not been a hint of sorrow mixed in, "It was your fault, y'know."

Krad snapped out of his trance. "What?" he asked, startled.

"You were the one who severed our bond." The Phantom Thief did not open his eyes, did not turn toward his other half, who shivered at the soft hardness of his voice.

Unbidden, a memory rose from the depths of Krad's mind, a memory he had tried to destroy, had tried to bury, had tried to forget.

– – – – –

"_You traitor! I don't want to associate with you any more! Get out of my sight!" Krad screamed, flinging an arm toward the window. The glass cracked._

"_Krad!" Dark cried out, pain and disbelief evident in voice and face._

"_Shut up!" Krad howled. "Shut up! Get out! Get out!" His hand trembled as his anger rose beyond the level of mere outrage._

"_Krad …" Dark's voice was gentle, pleading. Krad could feel the other's mind reaching across the distance between them, with silent entreaties to calm down, to listen._

_But Krad was not one to listen to such pleas, especially not when he was furious. "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Krad screamed. In an instant, his pure anger was transformed into magic and the magic surged from his body into the bond between the two halves of the Black Wings._

_For one second, terror and betrayal flooded through the bond from Dark – then there was an explosion of feathers, the window shattered, the wooden shutters beyond it splintered into a thousand pieces and Dark was gone._

_Dark was gone from the room and from Krad's mind. Forever._

– – – – –

But even as Krad trembled with the strength of the memory, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind, _But that was not my fault, Dark. It was yours._

Without meaning to, by habit, by instinct, by impulse, Krad's eyes flicked toward Satoshi's bedside table. Inside the drawer, Krad knew, lay a Cross. A Cross made by the Hikari, long before the Black Wings came to be. A Cross that Dark had Sealed four long centuries ago.

– – – – –

"_Why?" Krad whispered softly as he ran his fingers over the dead piece of artwork in his hands. The Cross of Nayera. She had been beautiful. So, so beautiful. "Why would you wish to kill her?"_

"_It was necessary, Krad. She was … getting out of hand. Just the sight of her would drive a susceptible human mad. She couldn't be controlled. So … I had to do it, Krad. I had to."_

_Krad could feel Dark's eyes on him. Likely wondering what his reaction would be. Likely praying that he would not be as volatile as a barrel of dynamite, the way he usually was._

_Sorry, brother. I can't change my personality for you._

_Krad looked up at Dark and Dark, seeing whatever it was that was in Krad's face – Krad did not know himself, but if his feelings were anything to go by, his eyes at least must have been a horror to see – took an unconscious step back._

"_What kind of monster are you?" Krad whispered, putting the full force of his anger into the words. "How can you even contemplate such a thing? This is nothing short of murder!"_

_Dark had stumbled backward, as if each and every word was a blow to the head. "But, Krad – it was necessary!"_

"_Necessary?" Krad made his voice cold and aloof, forced himself to use the tone of voice he usually saved for strangers he wished would leave him alone. "That is how you justify the destruction of a life that –"_

"– _a life that was a danger to the lives of others!" Dark cried out._

"– _a life that she had just as much right to live as anyone else!" Krad retorted. Why couldn't Dark understand?_

"_Not when her being alive means that others will die!"_

"Humans_, Dark!" Krad felt his anger and frustration rise. "_Human_ lives! Why should we care about them?!"_

"_They created us! We should _care_ about our Creators! Don't you care about Hikari-sama?"_

"_Of course I do!" Krad snapped. "But I'm not entitled to care about the rest of humanity!"_

"_And what if Hikari-sama had fallen under Nayera's spell? What then?"_

"_Hikari-sama is too powerful to be influenced by her," Krad snapped. "Besides, that's not the point! You should never kill another artwork! NEVER!"_

"_She should never have been created to begin with! You told me yourself how she was suffering! She should never have had to go through that kind of life! She's better off not living it!"_

"_And how would you know that? Did you ask her? Did she tell you that she'd rather die and go into Darkness than live in the Light?"_

"_No, but –"_

"_Then what right do you have to kill her?!" Krad challenged him. "She told me she wanted to live! She told me that anything would be better than going into that Darkness! Anything! You had no right to force her out of the Light and into the Darkness!"_

– – – – –

Krad forced himself to look away from the drawer, casting his gaze around the room. He did not look at Dark. "You were the one who killed the Cross of Nayera," he said softly.

Dark, who had progressed to pulling on his shirt (you have no idea how funny it is seeing the dignified Phantom Thief trying to shove his big head through the neck of a shirt), stopped again. "You were the one who said we were, all of us, every piece of art every made, better off dead."

Krad flinched at this. He remembered this far too well.

– – – – –

_Krad sat atop the roof, arms wrapped around his knees, his wings forming a tight protective cocoon around him. Not that this cocoon did much to protect him from his own thoughts._

"_Krad?" said a voice from beside him. A hand pressed gently against the feathers on the outside of his right wing._

_Neither did the cocoon save him from his brother, it seemed. Krad sniffed as he allowed his wings to disappear._

"_What's wrong?" Dark asked as he settled down beside him._

_Krad spent a long while trying to find the words for what he wanted to say. "Why do they do this to us?" he finally burst out. _

_Dark frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked_

"_The humans. Why do they bother to create art? They get it all wrong and the artwork goes crazy and starts destroying everything it comes in contact with. Then they decide that the artwork needs destroying and all the work the Maker puts in is wasted. Or else they succeed in making the artwork perfect and somebody comes along who unbalances it, and then the whole thing starts over again."_

_Dark sighed. "It's useless to ask such questions, Krad. You know that no human really understands anything about it at all."_

_Krad closed his eyes. "I know. But when I look at us, or the Cross of Nayera, or any other piece of artwork, I can't help but wonder. What's the point of creating us when, sooner or later, they end up trying to destroy us? We should never have been created. We're almost better off dead than living in this hell."_

_Dark stood up. "Come on, Krad," he said. "Let's go back inside. Hikari-sama was getting worried about you. We should let him know you're alright."_

_Krad opened his eyes and looked up at his brother, his twin, his other half. "Hikari-sama would have made us perfect if Niwa-san hadn't unbalanced the equation and ruined it. It's hell to try to keep on living like this, separated from each other."_

_Dark scowled, but Krad knew it was only because Dark did not know what to say. "Come on, get up," he said gruffly. "Hikari-sama is waiting."_

– – – – –

Krad disentangled his mind from the memories of the past and silently told them to leave him alone. Not that that would work, but it was worth a try. Krad then turned his mind toward trying to steer the conversation out of dangerous waters. "What I meant by that was – "

The now fully-dressed Dark whirled around. "Yeah?" he demanded. "What did you mean by it?"

Krad hesitated. Every other time Dark got too worked up – like now – he would explode and disappear for weeks. Krad would never be able to come near Dark except during a heist, and even then Dark would have even less mercy than usual on him.

But Krad was never very good at subtly fiddling with the mind – especially not when it came to Dark. Humans were, admittedly, easy to manipulate, but Dark was a whole other ball game. So when Krad opened his mouth, he inevitably managed to put his foot in it. "I was talking about how we were separated from each other!" Krad said.

Dark clenched his fists, and Krad suddenly had a great urge to knock his own head against the bedpost. _Stupid idiot,_ he berated himself. _Now you've done it._

"And was that really such a hell?" Dark shouted. "We were separate beings with a single soul and we were always together! Was that so bad?!"

Krad tried to salvage the situation. "Dark …" he said pleadingly.

"Look at us," Dark said bitingly. "Look at us now. We are barely clinging to life as it is! We are separated in body and spirit and purpose! We can never be together again! What was so bad about the way we were before that you would call it hell?!"

Krad reached toward Dark with his hands. "Dark," he whispered. "Please …"

Dark pulled away. "Don't touch me," he hissed.

Krad fell back, his mind and heart in complete turmoil.

Dark flung an arm in the direction of the window. The surge of magic he sent streaming out of his fingers near shattered the glass as it slammed the window open. "Come on, With!" he called as he threw himself toward the window.

"Dark!" Krad lunged out of bed, trying to call back the Phantom Thief. The argument could not end like this. It couldn't. Please. Not like this.

Dark's ever-present companion rose from the corner where he had been watching the argument and bounded toward his master. The rabbit-demon barely had enough time to transform before Dark leapt out into the night.

"DARK!" Krad cried out. Then he collapsed on the floor in the middle of the room. _No. No. Not like this. Please._

_It's too late, Krad,_ whispered a voice that Krad had not thought was awake. _Give it up._

Krad immediately straightened. He fairly scrambled to his feet. There was no way he was letting anyone – not even his tamer – see how easily he could be cowed. _How long were you awake? _he asked suspiciously.

_Long enough to know that you can't fight me for this time _was the answer he received.

Krad made a show of nonchalance, walking – almost strolling – over to the bedside table. _I'm not that easy to beat,_ he said as he pulled open the drawer.

_Your emotions are none too stable. And that means you won't be able to fight very well._

Krad pretended to ignore the voice in his head as he took the Cross of Nayera from where it lay in the drawer. He pulled the end of his long ponytail in front of him and carefully attached the cross to the end. _Try me,_ he dared the boy in his mind.

After some bit of struggle, Krad relinquished his hold over the body he shared and retreated into the dark corners of Satoshi Hikari's mind to cry himself to sleep.

* * *

A/N: So how was it?


	4. Annoying, Isn't It?

A/N: Why, oh why, does ff . net decide _now_ to _not_ allow two different styles on the same line? I just spent ten minutes furiously trying to get the heading to look 'neat', with the first part of each line bold and the second part plain text, like I did with the other three stories, before?

And just when I come to the prompt "Annoyed", too.

Anyway, sorry for taking so long to get this up. I had half a dozen overly complicated ideas that I've been trying to work on for weeks. Meanwhile, I feel really stupid that this one was started and finished in less than 48 hours.

**

* * *

**

Title: Annoying, Isn't It?  
Fandom: DNAngel  
Characters: Krad, Satoshi, Dark, couple OCs  
Prompt: 004: Annoyed  
Word Count: 1593  
Rating: PG for deaths  
Warnings / Spoilers: None ... some OOC, of course, but that's to be expected ...  
Summary: Interesting the reactions one can get out of a song that nobody likes.

_

* * *

Ring around the rosy,  
Pockets full of posies,  
Ashes,  
Ashes,  
We all fall down! _

On his way home, Satoshi had walked passed a group of cheerful kindergarteners, who had all been singing one very, very annoying nursery song.

_Ring around the rosy …_

A nursery song …

_Pockets full of posies …_

… a certain homicidal blonde …

_Ashes, ashes …_

… was now repeating.

_WE ALL FALL DOWN!!!_

"SHUT UP, KRAD!!!"

The only answer to this was:

_Ring around the rosy,  
Pockets full of posies …_

– – – – –

_Ashes, ashes,  
We all FALL DOWN!_

_I'll bet that the song annoys me more than it annoys him,_ Krad mused.

_Ring around the rosy …_

– – – – –

_Krad held the delicate rose-wreath to his chest with one protective hand, huddling around it, instinctively using his body as a shield. His other hand he held up before him, sometimes directing a blast of magical fire at his adversary, at other times projecting a screen of defensive magic against the offensive magic of his enemy._

_Suddenly a blast of magic came from behind him and Krad screamed in pain as the pure essence of dark destruction entered his bloodstream. Krad focused on the burning sensation that ate quickly (_far too quickly_, he thought) toward his left kidney. He focused on it, blocking its path when it tried to force its way in. Block it, block it, push it away, it doesn't belong here, block it out, push, shove, GET OUT OF MY BODY!_

_And the darkness was blasted out of his back in the direction it came from straight toward the person who had sent it toward him. He sent a spiraling shot toward his adversary, then spared a glance behind him to see who could dare to interrupt his battle with his longtime nemesis._

_Krad's eyes widened when he saw who it was. "You –" He turned so he could see both of his assailants at once, glancing from one to the other in shock. "You –"_

"_Yes," said the first assaulter, who had managed to dodge Krad's attack._

"_Me," said the second attacker, who had merely reabsorbed Krad's counterattack._

"_And me," said a third from directly behind Krad. Krad tried to turn, tried to forget his shock and focus, but it was too late, he was hit by another spell of Darkness._

_Krad tried desperately to recover, trying to use his previous strategy to get rid of the darkness before it could seriously damage him._

"_And me," said a fourth voice from a completely different direction. Krad was almost startled out of his concentration, but he held on grimly._

"_And me," said a fifth, then a sixth, then a seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth voice._

_Krad lost the battle against the darkness, and hovered in the air, barely holding on to his sanity, already sure that he wouldn't be able to hold onto his life. _Ten_, he thought vaguely. _Ten. I'm surrounded. Ten against one. So unfair.

_The ten foes gathered in a ring around Krad. One of them (_the first one, the original,_ Krad thought) came forward. "I'll take what I came for now, Krad," he said._

_Krad gazed at him with dim, unfocused eyes. "Never."_

_His opponent's mouth tightened. "Give it here, Krad."_

_Krad shook his head slowly. "No."_

_His enemy's jaw clenched and he lunged forward, planting his palm onto Krad's forehead. Krad felt a shock of burning fire and, as he screamed, he felt the wreath being slipped out of his hands._

"'_Ring a ring o' roses'," Dark quoted with a wicked smile as he backed away from Krad. The earring Dark wore glinted in the moonlight as the nine other copies of Dark vanished into thin air._

_Krad had only a moment to despair before he fell unconscious, letting his body fall through a few hundred feet to splash head first into the sea._

_Hours later, the body of one Hikari Ryuichi was found floating into the harbor, skull cracked (some say it was shattered), lungs full of water, and one rose petal clutched in a tight grip that had only been reinforced by rigor mortis._

– – – – –

_Ring around the rosy,  
Pockets full of posies,  
Ashes,  
Ash –_

"STOP IT, KRAD!" Satoshi howled. His office window shattered as his fist went straight through the glass. Krad knew he couldn't care less who saw him, but it was fun seeing the shocked faces of the half a dozen police officers who were sitting at their desks, trying to get through their weekly reports

Laughter echoed in Satoshi's skull, bouncing around like a rubber ball. Satoshi clutched his head and bit down on a shout of pain.

The laughter slowly died away, only to be replaced by:

… _Pockets full of posies,  
Ashes,  
Ashes …_

– – – – –

_Hikari Tatsuya sat unmoving beside his father's casket. There was no body to put into it, nothing left of the man named Hikari Yuudai. He used magic – strong magic, impossibly strong magic – to protect Tatsuya and Krad from the trap._

_The trap Tatsuya and Krad had set to catch the Phantom Thief._

_The trap that Dark managed not to set off._

_The trap that had grabbed Tatsuya as he ran in recklessly to try to stop Dark from leaving._

_The trap that would have injured Tatsuya had Yuudai not used a rutile to divert all the damage from Tatsuya to himself. And Yuudai, with his weak heart and weaker body, had been vaporized, when all that might have happened to Tatsuya would have been being knocked unconscious for a few hours._

"_Hey," said Sorako as she sat down beside Tatsuya._

"_Hey," Tatsuya said automatically, barely sparing a glance at his fiancé._

_Sorako gently placed a bouquet of flowers into Tatsuya's lap. "Here," she said softly. "A posy for you."_

_Tatsuya gazed unseeing at the spray of small fragrant flowers. "Posies," he said in a dead, emotionless voice. "What use are they when there is no dead, rotting body – no decaying smell to cover up?"_

"_Tatsuya …" Sorako swallowed what might have tears and sobs, and said, "It's … tradition. A reminder of better times."_

_Krad almost winced at that. She could not have picked something worse to say._

_Tatsuya jerked to his feet, one hand clutching the posy in a stranglehold. "Better times?" he snarled. "Times that that Dark and those Niwa took from me!" The two names he spat out of his mouth, treating the words as if they were poison. "I swear I'll never forgive them!"_

_Sorako leapt to her feet and fled, weeping, from the room. Tatsuya turned, bewildered, and called, "Sora! Where are you going?"_

Don't you remember?_ Krad whispered. _She's a Niwa, too.

_And Tatsuya collapsed onto the ground, tears filling his eyes. For some strange reason there was a little song going through his head, a song he found himself brokenly trying to sing. "… a pocketful – of posies … ashes … ashes … we all – fall … down …"_

– – – – –

All good reasons to hate the song, no doubt, Krad mused. But he had to say that the real reason he hated the song was …

"Ring a ring o' roses," Krad sang softly, letting the hall that had been designed to enhance acoustics carry his voice to the one who stood at the other end.

Dark whirled, a disgusted look on his face. "Why do you like singing that goddamn childish song?" he demanded.

Krad smiled. "Because you hate it, love."

Dark snarled wordlessly, then, whirling, he dove toward the nearest window. Krad darted after him, laughing as he tossed up another line. "A pocketful of posies!"

The window shattered, and wings appeared on the backs of both who leapt out into the night air. "Ashes," Krad sang, gazing down at the splinters of glass that fell toward the pavement far below.

"Ashes," he called out to Dark, a ball of flame streaking from his hands to strike Dark's surrogate wings.

_We all fall down,_ Satoshi murmured in the background as Dark, With, and the painting Dark had snatched fell toward the ground far below.

"We all fall down," Krad agreed as he dove down after them, barely managing to catch the painting and keep it from shattering against the ground.

Then Krad alighted next to where Dark was trying (futilely) to get back up. He knelt down beside Dark's supine body and, pressing down gently on Dark's chest, forcing him to lie flat on the cobble stone ground, he bent over and whispered into Dark's ear, "Guess what, Dark? I hate that song, too."

Then Krad was gone in an explosion of feathers, gone to place the painting back in the display hall.

– – – – –

"Ring around the rosy,  
Pockets full of posies,  
Ashes,  
Ashes,  
WE ALL FALL DOWN!"

_I thought you hated that song,_ Krad commented.

"Ring around the rosy …"

_I used to,_ Satoshi replied.

"Pockets full of posies …"

_Why the sudden change?_ Krad asked wearily.

"Ashes, ashes …"

_If you hate it, I like it._

"WE ALL FALL DOWN!"

Krad sighed. Turning away from Satoshi, blocking his thoughts from his tamer's view he whispered, _We're all very strange creatures, aren't we? He likes what he would have hated only because it would annoy me._

_And I pretend to love that which I might have loved but that I secretly hate. It's a song worth listening to, worth singing, worth performing over and over. But since you hate it so much, I hate it as well. And since you hate it so much, I pretend to like it._

_I'm weird, aren't I, love?_

* * *

A/N: Yes, it got a little random there. And it's not as well thought-through as my other ones, I just slapped it together after I started annoying myself and my little sister by humming any old random nursery rhyme. 

Anyway, how was it? Did you guys like it?


	5. Krad's Kindness

A/N: Geh ... Story doesn't really fit the prompt ... Oh well.

Anyway, enjoy this one - it should be a LOT better than my last story.

* * *

**Title:** Krad's Kindness  
**Fandom:** DNAngel  
**Characters:** Dark, Krad, Daiki, Menou  
**Prompt:** 096: Touched  
**Word Count:** 1974  
**Rating:** G  
**Warnings / Spoilers:** OOC. Only to be expected when one writes such a non-canon pairing. And, yes, I know that the Hikari at the time was a woman, so Krad could not have been there, but this was just too tempting an idea to drop.  
**Summary:** The Agate Links was the only work of art Dark stole that was not made by a Hikari – or so they say. Dark and Krad, however, know better.

* * *

Dark sat cross-legged at the edge of the roof of 391 Carnelian Way, silent and at peace with the world. The stars were bright unwavering points in a clear sky, the moon more there than not, with a black shadow lingering at the left edge of the round orb. Three or four days would see the moon in its full glory once more.

_Is she asleep yet?_ Daiki asked, breaking into Dark's thoughts.

Not that he was actually all that interested in the sky. That wasn't why he was there after all – the sky was just as visible from the other side of town, where the Niwa house stood. The real reason Dark and Daiki were there was …

Dark turned his gaze toward a lighted window on the second floor of the building across the alley from where Dark sat. From this angle, one could see a small table where a lighted desk lamp always sat. There had been one time – and only one time – when that lamp had not been alight, and that had been because the light-bulb had burned out and the household had had no spare bulbs left. That night there had been a candle on the table.

One could also see a part of a bed, and the girl who slept in it. She was delicately beautiful, and looked as if made of fragile crystal, what with her pale skin and frail build. Normally her limp, golden-brown hair curled fetchingly around her face, but, tonight, it was tied back with a slender white ribbon that Daiki had given her earlier that night.

"Yup, she's asleep."

Dark felt a ripple of relief roll through his tamer's mind. _Good._ There was a huge yawn and a wave of exhaustion that threatened to knock Daiki out. _Can we go home now?_

Dark chuckled. "Go on," he said to his tamer. "Get to sleep – I'll get us home."

_Don't stay up too long, _Daiki cautioned. _We've got a heist tomorrow, don't we?_

"Don't worry 'bout it! Just get to sleep."

Daiki nodded sleepily and, with minimal help from Dark, fell asleep.

When he was sure Daiki was deep in dreamland, he raised his head and called into the night air over his shoulder, "I know you're there, Krad. C'mon out."

There was a theatric sigh. "'Tis pointless to try to hide from you, isn't it, Dark?" said an elegant, sophisticated voice. A moment later, a blazing white figure seemed to materialize from within the shadows of the staircase that led from the floor below to the roof of the building. It was as if a shroud of darkness had been cast away from the blazing form of an angel.

Dark was, however, not impressed by the drama. "You torture the poor shadows with your burning presence," he said with a piercing look. "I could hear their screams from all the way over here."

Krad returned Dark's glare with a calmly raised eyebrow, and an expression that held more meaning than anyone but Dark would have been able to read. Then, surprisingly, the eyebrow lowered and Krad bowed slightly. "I apologize for that, my erstwhile companion," he said, formally.

Dark nodded regally, all the carelessness and derisive laughter that he kept for the sake of his tamers gone for the moment. With Krad, what was needed was delicacy and subtlety, not a coarse and slightly abusive friendship. "Apology accepted," Dark said, turning back to watch the sleeping girl. With that, a truce was established.

Dark listened carefully, tracking Krad's exact movements by the sound of his rustling robes and by triangulating the vibrations he could feel in the ground. He watched out of the corner of his eye as a strangely calm and abnormally composed Krad knelt down beside him. Not very close beside him, of course, Dark observed to himself. Quite far away, actually, about five feet, almost outside of Dark's peripheral vision, and definitely outside of the reach of Dark's arm. And the way Krad was kneeling – it was a position from which he could as easily leap to his feet as dive off the roof. It was a tentative and wary truce that hung in the air between the two enemies and neither was willing to trust in it too much.

"I've been wondering why you were appearing so often and seemingly without reason," Krad said after a moment of peering down at the sleeping girl.

"Now you know," Dark said quietly.

Dark saw Krad begin to tense up, and quickly ran through half a dozen defensive spells before he forced the paranoid thoughts away. It was his own fault, after all, for using such an antagonistic choice of words. Trust him, Dark told himself. Trust him to honor the truce.

"What's her name?" Krad asked. Krad did not relax, but at least his tone did not have that deadly flavor of indifference. There was a serene curiosity. It was, Dark thought as he analyzed Krad's words, a safe tone of voice.

"Menou," Dark answered. "Her name is Menou."

Krad nodded slowly in a rather exaggerated fashion. Dark scowled – Krad could only be doing that if he knew Dark was watching. That meant one of two things: either Krad wanted to make it easier for Dark to see what Krad was doing, or Krad was making a wordless remark on how Dark was tracking Krad's movements. Or both.

"Menou," Krad said in a soft voice. It sounded to Dark as if he was testing the name, examining it, trying to discover the character of the one who was called by it. "How is it written?" asked Krad, seemingly still engaged in figuring out the name.

But Dark knew better. Krad's mind was as quick as it was twisted. If he hadn't figured out everything he wanted to know from the name by this time, Dark would eat his own socks (he didn't own a hat).

"Agate," Dark answered.

Krad nodded again. "Agate …" he murmured to himself. He propped his chin in his palm, resting his elbow on his knee. "Agate …"

When, after a long while, Krad said no more, Dark stole a sideways glance at him – and was surprised. Krad's eyebrows were drawn together in a light scowl that Dark had, over the centuries, learned to interpret as Krad's "what an _interesting_ puzzle" look – an expression that Dark had long ago learned was only used when Krad was about to do something that was not cruel but rather kind, and was trying to figure out a way around being seen as anywhere near decent. His pursed lips and his tip-tapping fingers against his cheek declared that he was failing to find a way to make a kindness seem a cruelty, and that half-lidded eye meant that he was about to give in to his kind impulse and to hell with his evil reputation.

Krad was an easy person to read, once one knows him well enough.

Dark began preparing himself, preparing his mind for Krad's impending gift and prayed that this gift would not be anything like the last present Krad had given. A figurine of the angel Michael – patron angel of chaos, death, insomnia, repentance, righteousness, truth, and war – had been left at the Niwa doorstep some four generations ago, on the Niwa tamer's fourteenth birthday, with a note that said "To him who will raise chaos among the world of art, rain death upon the art he steals, dare to wage war against me, experience many a night of insomnia, think that this is all done is truth and righteousness – my congratulations on finally becoming a man. I'll be watching." It had been one of the few times Krad had appeared to the Hikari generation before Dark had appeared to the Niwa.

Krad spoke up then. "You know," he said in a conversational tone, "you haven't been stealing anything lately."

Dark shot a glance at Krad, who was still gazing down at the sleeping girl. What was Krad talking about? Where did he want the 'conversation' to go? "Daiki's being swamped with homework, as is your own tamer," Dark said by way of an answer.

"I heard," Krad said, "that the museum curator has procured quite a valuable piece to be put on display – just for the weekend."

Dark frowned at this. It was as if Krad hadn't heard Dark at all, was ignoring him on purpose. That meant Dark had answered incorrectly and Krad was trying to steer the conversation back where he wanted it to go.

Krad seemed to be waiting for an answer, so Dark quickly went back over the past few days, trying to work out exactly what Krad was talking about. "Are you referring to the Rose Garland?" Dark asked, grasping at straws. "That one's staying in the museum for the next three months, isn't it?"

"My tamer had a chance to actually look at it the other day," Krad said, casting a rather irritated look at Dark. Dark cringed inwardly – that look told the Phantom Thief, clear as day, that Dark needed a brain transplant as Dark's own brain was obviously Out of Order. "It was a white pendant, with silver wings attached … What was it's name again?" Krad's tone of voice was light, almost whimsical, but his expression was one of sheer exasperation.

Dark took a moment to think it through – and came very close to smacking his forehead and shouting out to the world how stupid he was. "Oh, that one," Dark said. "I believe it's called 'The Agate Links'?"

Krad's expression changed to one that practically shouted 'Finally!' "Yes," Krad said, "That's it. That's the one. It's a beautiful piece."

Dark nodded. What is he getting at _now_? Dark wondered. Does he want to give it to me? Or does he want me to try to steal it? "Yes. I've seen the pictures, but photographs hardly do the artworks any justice."

Krad turned back to look at the sleeping girl. "It's just too bad," Krad said with a dramatic sigh and a glint in his eye that Dark was reluctant to call mischief.

"What's too bad?" Dark asked warily. He didn't like letting Krad lead his questions along, but it wasn't like he had much choice if he wanted to continue the 'conversation'.

"It's too bad we don't know who made 'The Agate Links'," Krad said blithely.

Dark outright stared. Not know who made The Agate Links? It was the same Hikari who had made the Black Wings! For God's sakes, Dark and Krad actually _seen_ Hikari make it, had _helped_ him with it! What was Krad talking about?!

When the silence started to drag out, Krad glanced over at Dark and scowled when he saw the surprised look Dark knew he was wearing. "But who cares?" Krad said with a nonchalant voice and an aggravated expression. "I _know_ it wasn't a Hikari, so _I_ surely don't."

That was when it clicked. _He's going to let me steal the Agate Links!_ Dark thought, shocked. _He's going to let me take it, and not try to kill me for it!_

Krad nodded when he saw that Dark understood. "Took you long enough," he muttered. In a flash Krad was on his feet and Dark had to crane his neck to look up at him. "I've got to go!" Krad said in a cheerful voice. "See you later!"

Dark smiled. "Sometime next week, I take it?" Dark asked in a careless voice.

Krad's grin widened. "I have things to do this weekend, so I won't be seeing you until next Monday." There was an explosion of feathers and Krad was gone.

Dark sat there on the roof for a few minutes longer in silence before he whispered to the night air, "You're kinder than you think, Krad. Thank you."

* * *

A/N: So ... Did you like it? Was it good? Bad? Need improvement? Anything? 


	6. A Changing World

A/N: Yeah ... I'm sorry about the long silence. Put it this way; when, in 11th grade, you get an F for the first time, you're screwed.

Anyway. The time for this story is the first night after Daiki's 14th birthday. (This time I'm going with the canon - as in, the only live Hikari at the time is a female.)

* * *

**Title:** A Changing World  
**Fandom:** DNAngel  
**Characters:** Dark, OC  
**Prompt:** 088. Shocked  
**Word Count:** 537  
**Rating:** E  
**Warnings / Spoilers: **Er ... None?  
**Summary: **On the first night after Daiki's 14th birthday, the reappeared Dark and Daichi – Daiki's father – have a chat on the rooftop of the Niwa house about changes.

* * *

The skies are beautiful tonight. It's a new moon today, so the moon is not visible, but the stars shine bright and clear. Admittedly, not as bright or as clear as they were twenty years ago, the last time I looked up at those tiny little pinpricks of light.

I turned my gaze downward, toward the small city that spread northward from the Niwa house. It had gone from the 'large town' I knew to a full-blown, electricity-run, lamp-lit _city_.

"It's different from what I remember," I say.

The thirty-five-year-old man standing with me on the roof of the Niwa house shifts nervously from one foot to the other. (Why is he so nervous? We were such close friends when he was my tamer ….) "Yes," he says, "it's changed a lot."

I look away from the sprawling monster of a city – I had liked the smallness of the town, the isolation that allowed me to be as open as I wanted with my thefts without fear of real punishment. But now it is a city, with electricity, and real police, not a few volunteer 'peace-keepers' that knew better than to get in my way when I was after something.

He ought to be happy about that, at least. He'd always hated having everyone know that He existed. He would love this situation – no matter how show-offish I became, He would never have to show His face in order to stop me.

But … no, He probably wouldn't really like it all that much. I know He likes to personally confront me – face-to-face confrontation was always something the both of us relished. It is just that I like an audience, and He would prefer no witnesses.

Speaking of which …. "How are the Hikari?" I ask casually. "Do you know when I should expect … opposition?"

The man stares at his feet, scuffs the shingles on the roof with his left foot, scratches his ear with his right hand, and says nothing.

"Daichi," I say, "answer me."

The man takes a deep breath and, shaking his head, says, "There will be no opposition this time."

I try to assimilate this information, try and fail. "What … what do you mean?"

"Hikari's wife bore twins, a boy and a girl," the man says. "But both Hikari and the boy twin died in a car accident almost ten years ago. Only his wife and the girl are alive now."

No. No, this cannot be. He is always here. Always. He has never been absent before. The cycle has been maintained for sixteen generations, the pattern has never been broken before. Why should it break now?

"I'm sorry Dark," Daichi murmurs. "But it doesn't look like Krad is going to be here this time."

I am in the midst of a dream. A dream in which I am here but He is not. It is an impossibility – therefore it must be a dream. Such a thing could not happen in reality – there is no place in reality for the possibility of my presence and His absence.

I am dreaming of an impossibility. Trapped in a nightmare where that-which-cannot-be-true is true, where that-which-cannot-happen has happened.

Please let me wake up soon.

* * *

A/N: Yes. It's short. It might or might not have a second part to it, but this is what I have now.

So ... comments, praise, flames, etc. are all welcome!


	7. The Ice Hunter

A/N: I've been working on this one for MONTHS, since the end of December. I can't BELIEVE how difficult it was to write the ending to this.

Anyway, enjoy, this one is a loooong one.

* * *

**Title:** The Ice Hunter  
**Fandom:** DNAngel  
**Characters:** Satoshi, Krad  
**Prompt:** 016: Cold  
**Word Count:** 1905  
**Rating:** G  
**Warnings / Spoilers:** OOC galore.  
**Notes:** This is partially based on the two-page comic about Satoshi's day, which can be found at the end of Volume 3. On a day when there is no warning note from Dark, Satoshi goes to a part-time job, then goes out and buy dinner, before going home and researching stuff. Also, the kanji for "Hikari" translates to "Ice Hunter" (which is where I go the title for Krad) and the kanji for "Niwa" translates to "Red Feather" (which is where I got the title for Dark).  
**Summary:** Satoshi hates the snow and hates his name and hates Krad.

* * *

"Don't you like playing in the snow, Hiwatari-kun?"

_Yes, let's play in the snow, Satoshi-sama. It'll be fun!_

"No."

_Why not, Satoshi-sama?_

"Why not, Hiwatari-kun?"

_Come on, Satoshi-sama! Let's __**play**__ in the snow._

"Just – No, Niwa. I – really have to go."

_Aw, man! How about tomorrow? Will you play tomorrow?_

"Oh. Okay. Well, see you tomorrow!"

– – – – –

Snow.

Satoshi used to love playing in the snow.

He used to make snow forts and snowballs and snowmen and snow angels. He used to wait eagerly, toward the end of every year, not for Christmas, but for the first snowfall.

"_The first sign of a true son of the Hikari."_

Satoshi did not remember who it was who said that, whether it was his long-gone mother or his non-existent father or his long-dead grandfather or Hiwatari senior. It might even have been a voice in his own head that had whispered it.

Whatever the case, Satoshi had never mentioned it to anyone. He had cherished the thought, as whoever had said it, had said it with pride. It was a thing to be proud of, to be a true son of the Hikari. It had been his little secret. A secret that had given him a warm fuzzy feeling, a feeling that could comfort him in any situation. I am a true son of the Hikari. And a true son of the Hikari can do anything. Nothing is impossible for a true son of the Hikari.

But then he learned about the true meaning of being a son of the Hikari. He learned the true meaning of his name, his genes, his inheritance.

He was indeed a true son of the Hikari. A true son of the Ice Hunter.

And the most important sign of a true son of the Ice Hunter? To carry the Ice Hunter himself in his mind. To be a vessel for the Ice Hunter.

No wonder he had loved the snow so much.

– – – – –

"Hey, Hiwatari!"

_Why are you here at work instead of outside in the snow, Satoshi-sama?_

"Yes, Setsuha?"

_You are __**only**__ a child, after all._

"Could you go shovel out the sidewalk?"

_Yes, let's go outside and shovel __**snow**_

"Uh …"

_Go on, say yes._

"Go on, get to it. I can take over here for now."

_Say yes, Satoshi-sama._

"Are you sure?"

_Why do you hesitate, Satoshi-sama?_

"Yeah, I'm sure."

_I know you._

"And, Hiwatari? Take as long as you want."

_You are glad, deep down. You are glad that you are being forced to go out and __**play**__ in the snow._

"Kids like you ought to get some time to play after the first snowfall."

_Yes, let's __**play**__ in the snow, Satoshi-sama._

– – – – –

Satoshi could no longer remember a time when he loved snow, when he waited for the first snowfall of the year with as much anticipation as most children waited for Christmas.

He could no longer recall why his grandfather used to threaten to lock him indoors on the first snowfall in order to elicit good behavior.

He could no longer recollect why he'd stash one snowball in his refrigerator near the end of winter, and take peek at it every week or so during spring, summer, and fall.

He could no longer call to mind the reason he'd been so delighted when he discovered his last name Hikari had the kanji for 'ice' in it.

He had long forgotten such things. He had long ago hammered it out of his own mind. He had long ago torn away that part of his soul, like so much ruined canvas, and thrown it all away.

He had long ago ceased being that cheerful laughing creature that danced with the snowflakes and joined in every snowball fight in his path.

He was a child no longer. The Truth of the Hikari, the Truth of the Ice Hunters, had ended his childhood early, shattered his innocence, and erased any memory he had once had of either.

Satoshi was an adult who could not remember a time when he was a child.

Nothing more unfortunate or piteous could happen to anyone, I'm sure.

– – – – –

"Ah, Hiwatari-kun, how are you today? Did you enjoy the snow?"

_Yes, Satoshi-sama, did you __**enjoy**__ playing in the snow?_

"I'm fine. The snow was … fun."

_Ah, don't take that tone, Satoshi-sama! I know you enjoyed it. Enjoyed immersing yourself in that cold, soft substance …_

"I didn't have much time to spend playing in it, really."

_Ha! Half the time 'shoveling' was really spent in __**playing**__ in the snow!_

"Right. So, the usual?"

_No, Satoshi-sama! Something less loaded with spice, please?_

"With extra pepper, please."

_No, I beg of you! It always burns so!_

"Are you sure? That dish comes with two doses, as is, you know."

_Yes, Satoshi-sama, it's more than hot enough by itself!_

"Yes, I'm sure. I feel particularly cold today."

_Satoshi-sama, no! Please no!_

"Alright. But just watching you eat the normal dish makes me feel ready to dive into a bank of snow."

– – – – –

Satoshi hated the Ice Hunter.

On some level, it was the Ice Hunter's dependence he hated. It was how the Ice Hunter needed others to do his work for him, others like Satoshi himself. It was how the Ice Hunter needed some else's body, someone like Satoshi. It was how the Ice Hunter needed to use someone else's energy, someone else's magic, someone else's artwork. Why did the 'someone else' always have to be Satoshi?

On a different level, it was the Ice Hunter's powers that bothered Satoshi. It would bother anybody, really. The human body can only take so much ice before it collapsed. And the sheer amount of light the Ice Hunter could harness was more than enough to overwhelm ten full grown men. Satoshi was a fourteen-year-old, underweight, somewhat malnourished boy. The Ice Hunter had a tendency to forget his strength and the limits of the body of a growing child. So it can hardly surprise you that the Ice Hunter's powers bothered Satoshi.

On yet another level, it was the Ice Hunter's attitude that most inflamed Satoshi. The Ice Hunter was dependant on Satoshi for so much. For energy, for cover, for _life itself_. And yet the Ice Hunter treated Satoshi as if Satoshi was a servant. The Ice Hunter might call Satoshi Master, might add the extreme honorific '-sama' to Satoshi's name, but the Ice Hunter did not act like he meant it. Then the Ice Hunter called Satoshi his 'everything', and refused to let him come close to anyone. The Ice Hunter acted as if Satoshi was a thing, to be owned or possessed.

Lastly, the Ice Hunter was completely inhuman. For that alone, Satoshi would have hated him with all his heart.

– – – – –

_Pick up that damned device or I swear I'll blast it to pieces._

"As if I would let you."

_Finally! Satoshi-sama decided to acknowledge my existence! First time today!_

"Shut up. Hello?"

_There you are, ignoring me again._

"Hello. May I please speak with the Commander Hiwatari?"

_The police?!_

"Speaking."

_Has Dark sent another letter?_

"Hold on, Commander Saehara wishes to speak with you."

_It has to be Dark. Is he going to steal another piece of artwork?_

"Hiwatari?"

_I wonder what artwork is targeted? The Foolish Knight? The Carnelian Spring?_

"What is it, Saehara?"

_The Rose Garland? The Cross of Lead? No, that one hasn't appeared yet._

"Is it Dark? Has another warning note come in?"

_How about A Cabin Berth? He tried for it once before and failed …_

"Why are you so obsessed with Dark, Hiwatari?"

_Because he is my existence, you fool._

"Just tell me whether there's another note!"

_What about Agrarian Days? Or Many Worlds?_

"Of course not! I'm calling because you didn't finish filing last night's reports!"

"Hello? Hiwatari?"

"Hello!"

"Fax them over here. I'm not walking to the police station tonight."

– – – – –

As much as he hated the Ice Hunter, there were times when Satoshi pitied him. Pitied him his obsession and his disappointment.

As strong and powerful as the Ice Hunter was, he was completely helpless when it came to the Red Feathered. The heartless Ice Hunter scrambled for a chance to see the Red Feathered as much as any other girl in the city. The unfeeling Ice Hunter wept for hours after each encounter with the Red Feathered, because the Red Feathered hated him.

And every time the police contacted Satoshi, the Ice Hunter would assume it was because the Red Feathered had sent in a warning note. The Ice Hunter would leave off his almost running monologue of comments on what Satoshi was doing, what Satoshi was saying, what the person Satoshi was talking to was saying, what the people around Satoshi were doing, etc. to run through every piece of Hikari artwork ever created, trying to figure out which one the Red Feathered would steal next.

When he was right, when the call was really about a new warning note, the Ice Hunter would immediately devise a dozen different ways to protect the artwork, then list a dozen ways the Red Feathered would foil each scheme, then name a dozen ways to counter each possible escape of the Red Feathered, and so happily while away the hours until the time the Red Feathered was to appear. And once that time came, the Ice Hunter would sometimes employ a few of his carefully constructed plans, sometimes not. Sometimes he would force Satoshi to let him out, sometimes he would purposely hold back just enough of his strength so that Satoshi would be able to keep him from breaking loose. Sometimes he would desperately want to speak to the Red Feathered, sometimes he was just content to watch. But no matter the situation, no matter if the Ice Hunter was in control or if Satoshi was in control, the Ice Hunter would always ensure that the Red Feathered would leave with what he came for. Whether by holding back his own blows just enough for the Red Feathered to be able to survive or by distracting Satoshi at a critical moment, the Ice Hunter always made sure that the Red Feathered came away with something gained and little lost.

But this was what happened when the Ice Hunter was right, when the police contacted Satoshi to inform him of a new warning note.

There were many times when the Ice Hunter was wrong, when the police called Satoshi for a reason other than the Red Feathered. When this happened, when the Ice Hunter's hopes had been raised so high only to be crushed completely, the Ice Hunter's disappointment was be terrible. For hours afterward, a disconsolate silence would emanate from the corner of Satoshi's mind where the Ice Hunter dwelled.

Satoshi sometimes wondered which was worse – to have the Ice Hunter crying because he could not see the Red Feathered, or to have the Ice Hunter crying because he had seen the Red Feathered and was reminded of how much the Red Feathered hated him.

– – – – –

"Hey, Krad. Are you alright?"

"C'mon Krad, talk to me here."

"Krad, come on."

"Krad!"

"KRA-AD!"

… _What?_

"Do you want to play in the snow?"

… _No._

"Come on, let's go play in the snow."

… _I said NO._

"Well, we're going anyway."

– – – – –

The saddest part was, when the Ice Hunter was as depressed as this, Satoshi could not help but try to cheer him up.

* * *

A/N: So ... How was it? 


	8. Darkest Fear and Deepest Despair

A/N: This one took a long time to finish, but it should be worth the wait!

* * *

**Title:** Darkest Fear and Deepest Despair  
**Fandom:** DNAngel  
**Characters:** Krad, Dark, Daiki, OC (cameo)  
**Prompt:** 098: Vulnerable  
**Word Count:** 5241  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings / Spoilers:** OOC. (I shouldn't really have to say this any more, should I? You guys already know that. )  
**Summary: **What happens between incarnations? Do Dark and Krad meet in that Darkness beyond life and before death? Do they do battle or do they keep all of that here in this world?

* * *

Between the comforting Light of Life and the burningly bright Light of Death, there is a Void. A dark Abyss – or maybe a bright Abyss, who knows? The Outer Space of the world of Life is black as pitch, yet it is so filled with light that everything is illuminated to some degree. The same goes for the Void – it is black, with nothing native to it to be illuminated, but anything of color that slips into it is visible as a bright object lit from all sides, with no chance of finding a shadow. 

There is one such object there in that Darkness now, one small humanoid figure. He is dressed in simple elegant robes of gold-trimmed white. His long hair is a pale yellow-gold almost the same shade as the gold on his robes. His skin is as pale as porcelain, nearly as white as his spotless robes.

This humanoid creature lies on his back, his amber eyes closed against the bright darkness, the nothingness of this realm. Why open his eyes at all, when there is nothing to see but himself? There had been another, once upon a time. Another creature who roamed the Abyss. Someone else to look on, someone else with whom he could speak. But that Other had left the Abyss a long, long time ago.

The humanoid figure slowly turns over onto his side. He curls like a baby, knees tucked to his chest, arms wrapped around his head. Wings materialize out of his back, stretching to wrap around his body like a blanket.

Blankets. He could remember blankets. Thick, soft, protective, a comforting barrier between himself and the darkness where nightmares prowled like starved man-eating lions.

There are no nightmares, no monsters, no lions here in this abyss. He found that out long ago. There is nothing here, nothing at all. In all the time that he has spent wandering the Void, he has seen only himself and that Other.

He remembers vaguely another time when the Other had disappeared. He remembers wandering the Void, searching fruitlessly for the Other, calling for the Other, weeping for the loss of his only companion. But the Other had returned, in the end. The Other had come back.

And the Other will come back again. He knows that his only friend will come back.

_Plop._ The sound of a drop of liquid falling into a puddle of the same.

His hands slide over to cover his face. The wings tighten around their master's trembling body.

He will come back.

_Plop. Plop._

He will.

– – – – –

Daiki was one of those people who accepted life for what it was, accepted his place in the whole scheme of the world, and just went along with everything. He did not question his lot in life, he never doubted his path. Unusual for a human, to never ask 'why'.

This was the reason Dark was surprised when, one night, long after he should have been asleep, Daiki said, "Why do you have to leave?"

Dark, thrown off-balance, scrambled for an answer. _Uh … Well … um …just because,_ he said lamely, as he scrambled to get his wits together.

"But why?"

Dark scrabbled at his memory. What was the answer he had always used when the Niwa boys had asked him that question? _It might have to do with the spells that created us, separated us, and melded us with your bloodline. I do not know exactly how it works._ Which was a lie. Dark might not know exactly how or why he was pulled into the Darkness beyond Life, but he knew that it had nothing to do with the spells

"Alright," Daiki said. A pause. "What happens to you when you leave?"

Dark wondered vaguely where all these questions were leading to. _Nothing very exciting,_ he lied smoothly. _My mind gets shunted off into a cozy little spot between Life and Death and I go to sleep and wait for the Niwa to wake me again._ Yeah right. If only the reality was as harmless as that.

Daiki frowned. "Really?" he said skeptically. "If it's just that, then why are you so scared of going?"

Dark froze. How does he know? How does he know that I fear that time I must spend in the Void?

Daiki, sensitive soul that he was, felt Dark's confusion. "Well, it wasn't all that hard to figure out, Dark," he said. "You keep preventing me from being around the one I love, which effectively keeps me from talking to her and telling her the secret and making her fall in love with me. Which means that you will have just that much more time to stay."

Dark hadn't known that Daiki was so perceptive. But then, most of the Niwas managed to figure it out sooner or later. Why not Daiki? _You're right,_ Dark said. _I'm afraid of the Void._

"Why are you afraid?" Daiki asked. "What is it about the Void that scares you?"

Dark hesitated. What is it about the Void that scares me? Everything, alright? Everything. Everything and Nothing. Because even though I forget what happens in the Void when I am reborn into another Niwa – forget like one forgets a dream upon awakening – I still remember what the Void is. I still remember that nothing exists in the Void. Nothing is supposed to exist in the Void – not light, not life, not anything at all. I am afraid of the nothingness in the Void. I am afraid because I am made for shadows and there can be no shadows in a place where there is no light. There might be Darkness in a place without light, but I was made for the shadows cast by light, not true Darkness.

"Dark?" Daiki's voice suddenly pulled Dark back from his circling thoughts.

_It is the Void,_ Dark said softly, sadly. _It is the Void and that is more than enough reason to fear it._

"The Void," Daiki said pensively. "Why do you call it the Void?"

_Because there is nothing in it. Not air, not dirt, not light nor life nor a single person to talk to._

"Oh." A pause. "No wonder you don't want to go back there."

_No wonder,_ Dark repeated after Daiki. But there was more that Dark had not said. He did not fear the Void merely because it was empty. He feared too the part of the Void that he could not remember. I am afraid of the Unknown, just like everyone else. I am afraid of the part of the Void that I know is there, the part that I know is waiting for me, the part that I cannot for life the life of me remember.

"What if we could figure out a way to keep you here?" Daiki said suddenly.

Dark spent a moment staring incredulously at Daiki before saying, _Impossible. Every generation of Niwa has tried. And they have all failed._

"Aw, c'mon Dark!" Daiki cried. "That's giving up! How do you know that I won't find the way?"

_Daiki, this isn't going to w–_

"I'm sure there are sections of the Niwa files that nobody's touched in _centuries_! Some of it might be useful!"

_Daiki, I was the one who started that collec– _

"If we work at it, we might even find a solution within a year!"

_Daiki, there is nothing in the Niwa fi–_

"And if I spend as little time around Sasako as possible, then we won't have to worry about you leaving ahead of time!"

_Daiki –_

"Stop fussing, Dark!" Daiki said cheerfully as he scrambled out of bed. "Dad and I'll think up something – you won't ever have to go back into the Void again!" And Daiki was out the door and down the hall in his parents' room, shaking them awake.

Dark spent half a second wondering if it was worth the effort to talk some sense into the boy. After all, he was proposing to dig into the extensive and confusing mess that consisted of the Niwa files – a mess that Dark knew from long and painful experience was impossible to sort through or find anything in. There were also the myriads of traps and spells that generation after generation of Niwas had placed as protection on their precious dung heap of papers, but Dark figured that since he was with Daiki, the boy would be fine. And even if the boy found anything useful, it was doubtful that it would work – the world had a way of forcing Dark to leave, no matter what the boy he inhabited wished or did – no matter what Dark himself wished or did.

"Dad! Dad! Wake up! Dark and I just had this awesome idea!"

No. Not worth it. Definitely not worth the effort. Nothing I say will ever convince that boy that it is better to leave it be. And what does it matter? After all, nothing you do will make any difference at all.

And who knows? Maybe Daiki really will find the cure after all.

– – – – –

There are times when he wonders if the Other is real. There are times when he wonders if the Other is a figment of his imagination, just like the place he imagines lies outside the Void. This place has colors, and creatures, of every kind, of every form, of every hue. This place has people – both like and unlike himself and the Other. It is filled with noise and happiness and everyone lives in Light.

There are times when he can almost convince himself that such a place exists and he wanders the Void, searching for it. The same way he sometimes searches for the Other.

Sometimes he finds himself in that Place. Sometimes he finds the Other hiding in some part of the Void. That doesn't mean either really exists.

All it means is that he is very good at fooling himself. At convincing himself that all of that is real. At imagining it all to the point where his mind projects it onto the Void itself.

That's all it means.

– – – – –

Dark laughed almost maniacally when he landed in one of the back alleys of Azumono. The painting he clutched with one hand was one he had just lifted from the display case in the city museum. The heist had gone beautifully, with crowds cheering and Rio Hikari practically screaming with frustration. It had been fun.

Fun. It had been fun to prance before the adoring crowds of fan girls. Fun to set off all of Rio Hikari's traps without falling into them. Fun to trap Rio Hikari in one of her own traps. Fun to take the painting and wave it practically in her face, teasing her.

Fun to even get out and stand under the light of the moon again. Fun to breathe deeply of crisp night air untainted by ancient dust and dangerous spells.

Dark felt his euphoria die away. Daiki had hardly left the house over the past six months, except to go to school. Every free moment was spent deep in the cavernous basement, digging through the Niwa files, searching franticly for something, anything that could provide a clue to a way to keep Dark from leaving. Even now, Dark could hear Daiki lamenting silently over the 'waste of time', silently complaining that he should be spending every second of his waking life down in that basement searching.

_Shut up,_ Dark snapped. _Your body needs the exercise and the fresh air. It's pointless to save me from the Void only to have to send me right into it when you die of exhaustion and lack of sun._

_You shut up,_ Daiki retorted. _I'm doing this for you, but you're more hinder than help!_

Dark shook his head. _Idiot_, was all he could say.

The night before, Daiki had found the schematics of the spell that bound Dark to the Niwa bloodline. The boy had spent hours pouring over the diagrams and ancient wording and had practically screamed his lungs out with frustration when he finally figured out that the spell was not the source of Dark's problem. The boy had been all set to dive straight back into the basement to begin his search again when Dark quite literally hauled the boy outside for some fresh air and an impromptu drop-off of a warning notice at the police station.

That was the extent of Daiki's out-of-school life over the past six months. He had essentially ditched all his friends, ignored almost all of his homework, and avoided various 'distractions' such as food and sleep as much as he could. Daiki would have even ditched school if his father and Dark had let him.

It wasn't that Dark didn't want to stay, it wasn't as if he _wanted_ to go into the Void. But …

After six months of spending nearly all his waking life among old texts and old spells, Daiki had become pale as snow, thin as a rail, and weak as an over cooked noodle. Dark had had to be very careful not to overexert the body of his tamer during the heist, for fear of using up all the energy left in the boy.

"Daiki!" called a voice suddenly from behind Dark.

Dark whirled to look over his shoulder – and he felt the blood drain out of his face. How – how could she know?

"Come out here, Dark, Daiki, or whoever you are!" cried the girl standing at the entrance of the alleyway. "Come out here right now!"

As worried as he was about his tamer's sanity and safety, Dark did not fight Daiki when the boy forced his way into the pilot's seat, forcing the transformation. _I don't know how Sasako found out,_ Daiki said silently,_ but I'm not going to let her ruin our plans. _

The moment Daiki stepped from the shadows of the alleyway, Sasako pounced. She leapt at him, almost knocking Daiki to the ground. "I know about it," sobbed the girl.

If Dark had a heart, it would have frozen. If Dark had a body, it would have stiffened. If Dark had a pair of hands and a pair of legs, then he would have pushed the girl away and fled. But if Dark had all those, then he would not have needed to fear, would he?

Instead, since he had no body of his own, Dark could only watch in involuntary paralysis as Daiki held the weeping girl, supporting her, helping her stand.

The girl was still babbling. "I know all about it, Daiki. I've known ever since the beginning."

Daiki, flustered and weak as he was, did not understand immediately what Sasako was talking about. But when he did, Dark could feel his panic, a panic that was almost as strong as Dark's own. "No," he told the girl franticly. "No, you mustn't say it!"

But Sasako, Dark saw, was past caring. "I love you, Daiki," she said, eyes overflowing with tears. The light from the thin, dying moon seemed to collect in those tears and make Sasako's eyes shine forth as bright as the moon would have if it had been full.

Daiki seemed caught in a kind of paralysis as well – Dark could feel him willing himself to move, to flee. But his body did not respond. Dark reached to try to take over Daiki's body, reached and could not grab hold.

"I love you, Daiki," said Sasako again.

Dark scrabbled franticly at Daiki's mind. _Move,_ he cried. _Run!_ But Dark heard his voice, his words, stretch and twist and tie itself in knots and bend back on itself. The words, the thought, it would never reach Daiki. Dark knew it – his connection with his tamer was stretching – like a piece of gum being pulled gently, slowly, inexorably, from both sides – thinning, fading – like the middle section of a piece of gum being stretched. And soon, Dark knew, the connection would be pulled apart.

"I love you, Daiki – all of you, even that part of you that is Dark. I love you."

_NO!_ Dark screamed. He clung as hard as he could to Daiki and the sensations of the world he was being torn from. The feel of the girl's hair on Daiki's skin. The scent of the girl's light perfume. The sound of the girl's hiccupping sobs. And the sight of the twin moons that had replaced the girl's eyes.

Slowly, one by one, Dark lost the sensations of touch, then smell, then sound. Finally, all that was left was the sight of the girl's face, a view that shrank and retreated down a long tunnel of nothingness, until the only thing Dark could see was the light from the girl's moonstruck tears. When that last sight disappeared too, the world trembled, then quaked, then shattered into a thousand pieces.

Dark closed his eyes against the nothingness and screamed.

– – – – –

There is a ripple through the Void.

The humanoid figure leaps to his feet. He forces his eyes to open, eyes that have not been open for so long that they have almost forgotten their function. The blackness of the Void presses against his eyeballs, seeming to try to quash the surge of hope that he feels.

Hope. It is a feeling his heart has nearly forgotten. He remembers it now, because he remembers something else – ripples in the Abyss always happen just before the Place appears around him, or just before the Other comes back.

He waits for a count of five. The Place does not materialize out of nothing.

That means the Other is here. Somewhere in this Void, the Other is waiting, eyes shut, hands clenched, head bowed, waiting for him to come, waiting for someone to talk to, someone to laugh with, someone with which to spend eternity.

"Talk," he croaked in an unused voice. "Laugh." He has almost forgotten that he can do such things with his voice, his tongue, his lips. Indeed, he had forgotten language completely until this moment.

A word, a precious, treasured word, comes to the surface of his mind. His hoarse, scratchy, unused throat clears the moment he speaks that cleansing word – "Dark," he whispers, the image of the Other in his mind.

Yes, the meaning of that word is blackness, Void, Abyss, but the meaning of that word is also the Other.

Dazed with hope and remembrance, he searched the Darkness for the Other, whose name was Dark.

– – – – –

Dark stands in the Darkness. He stands alone, still and silent, eyes shut, head bowed, hands clenched. This is a dream, he tells himself. This is a dream.

I am not back in the Abyss, the Void. I cannot be.

_Plink._ The sound of a drop of some liquid hitting a smooth surface.

He promised to keep me with him.

_Plink. Plink._ The silence of the Darkness swallows the sound – there are no echoes.

He said he would try to find some way of keeping me in the real world.

_Plink._

He promised.

_Plink. Plink-plink._

"Why are you crying?" says the Darkness.

Dark flinches at the sound. He shrinks backward, away from the voice. His arms fly up to protect his head from a blow. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut.

"Dark?" whispers the Darkness.

Go away.

This is a dream.

Let me be.

Something touches Dark's left hand. Dark jerks back.

"Please, Dark," murmurs the Void. "Let me help you."

Dark's hands cover his ears. I cannot hear you.

Leave me alone.

Something brushes across Dark's cheek.

Dark screams, in pain or agony or fear or anger or some combination of them all. And, screaming, eyes still shut, ears still covered, he turns away from the voice and flees.

– – – – –

There he is! The Other!

He is so excited to see the Other, so happy, so joyous!

But he does not forget to walk slowly toward the Other, to not charge and leap and laugh. He walks slowly and surely, step by eager trembling step.

_Plink._

He recognizes the sound. The sound of a teardrop falling to the ground. The Other is crying.

"Why are you crying?" Why? The Other is here now. Here with me. Why does the Other cry at this?

The Other flinches, the way he always does. Arms fly upward to hide his head.

"Dark?"

The Other shrinks in on himself, his arms raised higher above his head, as if to ward off a blow. But why? I would never hurt you.

He reaches out with trembling fingers to touch the Other's closed fists, to move them out of the way so he could see the Other's face.

The Other jerks away, stumbles back a step.

"Please, Dark. Let me help you."

The Other flinches again. Fists fly apart to cover his ears with open palms.

So much pain on that face. So much fear and despair. How do I brush it away?

A memory surfaces. A memory of lips touching flesh, warm breath behind the ear, tongue rasping over throat.

Slowly, uncertainly, he leans forward toward the Other and lets his lips brush across the Other's cheek.

The Other shudders, then screams.

He leaps backward, just in time to avoid being hit on the head with an elbow as the Other turns and runs away, eyes still shut, ears still covered.

He is left standing where the Other first stood, standing in the beginnings of a small puddle of tears. He stands there and adds his own tears to those left behind by the Other.

– – – – –

Dark runs as fast as he can. As far as he can. His feet pound on what might have been a paved sidewalk, or a grassy field, or a marble floor, but was none of these. The ground, Dark knows, is nothing. The air he breathes is nothing. The world around him at this moment is nothing.

A dream of nothing. It is a dream. I am dreaming. And I will wake up soon.

Dark stumbles. He trips on nothing and falls to his knees. He scrabbles to his feet and keeps on running.

– – – – –

The sound of the Other's running steps grow fainter and fainter as the Other flees from him.

He tells himself that the Other always flees from him at first, always, without fail. He tells himself this, and says to himself that it does not distress him.

It doesn't hurt him.

It doesn't.

It doesn't.

It really doesn't.

… It does hurt me. It hurts. It really hurts that my only companion flees from me.

He feels his heart shudder and his breath came raggedly. A pain clutches at his chest. A burning pain, like he cannot get enough air. It hurts …

He clenches his hands into fists and he blinks away the tears that gather at the corners of his eyes. But the Other is still my only friend, my only companion.

He looks in the direction the Other had fled in. The Other is my companion.

He looks and picks up his right foot to take the first step to follow sound of the Other's footsteps. I must find him and when I find him, I will erase that pain and agony. I will erase that fear and despair and we will both be happy.

We will wander this Darkness together and we will be happy because we are together.

– – – – –

Run.

Run, even though your lungs burn and your legs ache.

Run, even though you heart bursts and your side cramps.

This is a dream. I am not here, not really.

This is a dream.

Dark trips again.

He tries to get to his feet. His legs, traitors that they are, collapse.

He tries to crawl, but there is no strength in his arms.

He falls on his side and lays there panting.

This is a dream. A dream.

A dream.

– – – – –

Where is the Other? He ran in this direction, but the sound of his footsteps have ceased.

Maybe he has stopped for a rest. Maybe, this way, I will catch up. But he wears the black of the Void, the non-existent shadows of the Void. The Other wears these shadows like a cloak. If the Other unfolds his wings of darkness, he would blend into the Void and I will never find him again.

I must find him before then. I must.

Brilliant white wings materialize out of nothing. Shimmering feathers flutter and shiver with movement as the white wings reach out and, with one strong flap, lift the white-robed figure into the air.

– – – – –

Wing beats. Something on wings is coming.

Dark tries to climb to his feet. He tries to flee from the wings. He tries and tries.

He collapses each time and fails to move more than a meter.

"Dark! Where are you? Dark!"

He claps his hands to his ears and curls up like a baby.

Go away. Leave me alone.

Wing beats. Closer.

Dark cannot run. Neither can he hide in nothing.

He will have to pray that he will be overlooked.

Wings. Closer still.

Please. Let me wake up before I am found.

Let me wake up and find that this is all a dream.

Please.

Dark still has not opened his eyes.

– – – – –

White wings flap as hard as they can, hauling their master through the Void with great speed. Desperation twists the face of the master of the white wings, fear burns in his mind, and despair wrings at his heart.

Where is he? Where is the Other? What if he vanishes again? What if the Other disappears and leaves me here alone again?

Hands clench into fists, eyes blink away tears, and wings beat the air at a quicker tempo. "Dark!" he cries. "Where are you? Dark!"

His voice flies into the Void, flies far and away. There is nothing in the Void to distort the sound, or absorb it, or drown it out. Nothing to return an echo.

But there is an echo. A strange echo. A soft whisper of a sound, like the sound of a pair of hands clapping over a pair of ears.

Wings paddle franticly at the air, ghosting their master in the direction that strange echo had come from.

– – – – –

Wings. The sound of wings above him.

Dark hugs tighter to the ground, willing the shadows to hide him.

What shadows? There are no shadows here.

There are always shadows. Where there is light, there is shade, and light is everywhere.

Not here, Dark. Not here. There is no shade here, because there is no light. There is no light and there is no shadow.

There is nowhere for you to hide.

The thump of a pair of feet landing on the ground. The rustle of wings as they are stretched and folded. The whisper of clothes as they are gently straightened.

Dark whimpers in fear.

Please, let me out of here.

– – – – –

There! There he is! Curled like a baby, hands over his ears.

White wings flap gently once more, then settles their master on the ground beside the Other.

He stares down at the Other from where he stands, wonder and despair raging in his heart and flickering across his face. He is here. He is here at last. But he runs. He will run and run from me. He tries to wish himself away even now. What can I do to make him stay with me forever?

The memory from before resurfaces, rises in his thoughts. Bruised lips pressed against soft skin. Warm breath brushed across a sensitive ear. Rough tongue rasped over an exposed throat. Gentle fingers lightly danced over smooth flesh.

He kneels down on the ground beside the Other and bends down, leaning over him. Careful to touch him nowhere else, he presses his lips gently against the Other's forehead.

The Other cries out, as if the gentle touch had burned, and flinches backward, eyes squeezed tighter.

Before the Other can escape, white wings leap outward, creating a curved ceiling that closes down around the only two creatures the Darkness. The Other writhes and whimpers when the feathers brush his shoulder.

"Hush." His fingers reach toward the Other's wrists, closing around them with an iron grip. "It'll be alright." He bends even closer to the still struggling Other and presses his lips against the Other's.

– – – – –

"Hush," says the voice of the Abyss. "It'll be alright."

But it isn't alright, Dark wants to say. It isn't. The Darkness that has no Shadows has caged me. The Void that has no Light has taken hold of my hands. I am trapped.

I am trapped and it is no dream. Please, let me go. Let me go back into the world where Light shines and I have shadows to hide in. Please …

Then something warm, something … bright … presses against his lips and, startled, Dark opens his eyes for the first time.

Expecting Darkness, he sees Light.

Expecting Void, he sees Life.

Expecting a monster, he sees …

"Krad," he murmurs against the lips still pressed against his own.

Krad pulls back a little, eyes widening in what Dark thought might be surprise. "Dark," he whispers, and Dark shivers slightly at the way Krad's voice seems to caress his name.

His vision blurs and he feels a sudden burning behind his eyes. "Krad," he cries, as the tears overflows from his eyes. He tries franticly to blink them out of the way.

"Yes, Dark. It's me." Dark cannot see Krad's smile nor the tears that must be filling Krad's eyes, but he can hear both in Krad's voice.

When Krad's hands released Dark's wrists, Dark did not squirm away. When Krad's fingers ran through Dark's hair, Dark did not knock them away. When Krad bent down to kiss him again, Dark kissed back, smiling all the while.

– – – – –

He is here. He is here and he no longer runs from me.

He smiles for me, and I smile for him.

He lets me touch him and he touches me.

We are together and we are happy.

We will be together forever.

– – – – –

Between the comforting Light of Life and the burningly bright Light of Death, there is a Void. In this Void, there is supposed to be Emptiness, Darkness, Nothingness. In this Void, nothing is supposed to exist.

But when has anything in this world or the next ever gone the way it was supposed to?

Two creatures there are who dwell in this Void; one the embodiment of Light, the other the incarnation of Dark. Sometimes the two wander the Void in a daze of happiness, hardly able to keep their hands off each other. Sometimes they each spread a pair of wings and spend hours frolicking through the air. Sometimes they merely sit back-to-back, leaning against each other, quietly reassured by the solid presence of the other. But most of their time is spent upon a cushion of soft black feathers and beneath the cover of a set of bright shining wings, kissing and touching, smiling and crying.

Out of sheer loneliness and fear of the Void, they cling to each other. For what is Light in a place without Dark? What is Dark in a place without Light?

* * *

A/N: Alright, it had a clumsy ending (and a clumsy beginning). But it's still good, right? 


End file.
